Thindorion was a talker, Triwathon discovered after their first heady joining, and it made him smile, remembering the days when he'd been the one to talk after, desperate for the reassurance of words from Red. But not now, he didn't have the same needs; perhaps he really had grown up, or grown out of his insecurities and lack of confidence at last.

Thindo, though… he'd been chattering away as if the silence of all the years of separation needed to be filled in all at once… except it felt as if there was something behind the talking, something hiding in the silences that Triwathon could not yet place…

'I know you're not my fëa-mate, Elkling,' Thindorion began, providing a welcome distraction to Triwathon's train of thought, 'I almost wish you were, but… then, I'm also almost glad you're not, you seem so happy without one…'

'I found Red so young, and then, not long after his death, after that little mistake I mentioned, I met my Hero of Gondolin, and even when we were apart, I did not want anyone else… But now I want, again, Thindo, I want you; I am a free heart and body, yours if you want, tonight, or you are mine, or we are our own, but together in mutual company. I am sorry; it is ill-mannered of me to mention any but you tonight, even Red, even in passing. So come, I think you deserve a kiss and I need one, and more, perhaps?'

'A kiss would be plenty, but more would be lovely, Elkling…'

Later, toying with Thindo's hair as he murmured about again, perhaps, please, Valinor was far away, after all, Triwathon found his thoughts unaccountably drifting as he rolled his friend forward onto his knees and cuddled up to push into him…

…as finally, it hit him; the reason behind Thindo's anxious chatter, the need to fill up the silent pauses between embraces; something, somehow, was slightly… off. Not in any way that Triwathon could recognise, but there was an uneasy feeling at the edges of his fëa, as if the air was heavy with portent. It reminded him of the night of the dragon attack, how he and Parvon had both had a sense of something terrible about to happen…

…Sweet Eru, no more dragons, please…! Yet the feeling was no presentiment of danger, he was sure, rather it was just an unease, and Thindo would be gone tomorrow, and they had so little time...

Pushing his anxiety away, he bit down on the back of Thindorion's neck and lost himself in the warmth, the heat and the rhythm and the soft sounds and gasps and Thindo responding, tightening and crying out and Triwathon had found his own glorious release. he was being silly, sensing danger where there was none; something about this encounter with Thindo was warm and friendly and just… just so right… it couldn't be wrong…

'Who could follow the Hero of Gondolin, after all…?' he had said yesterday, and perhaps only a friend, an old friend, could have helped Triwathon properly gain perspective about his Hero of Gondolin… Certain was it, he had no regrets now about his Balrog-slayer, was no longer caught up in the mystery of him like a fly in a golden web… no, that was unfair, his golden one had never tried to ensnare him, they had been together from mutual want and need (and what if they had fallen in love and it had taken Triwathon longer to fall out of love again?) They had parted friends and, at the last, to hold him, give him comfort during his last breaths, that had been special, that was true friendship, and the love there had been just that, the love of friends…

…as this was a friendly sort of love of another kind; affection and gratitude for old time's sake, and building sweet memories for Thindorion to carry with him until he found his forever-love…

There was nothing wrong with that, was there? Nothing at all.

(except… oh, except…)

Parvon.

(Why did he have to pick now, of all times, to think about Parvon…?)

'Sweet, Elkling, sweet and special, that's you… I'd never have imagined your loving to be so… well, determined… but gentle, for all that. I suppose I thought you'd be more of a beloved than a lover…'

Well, if Thindo wanted to talk, Triwathon could talk, too, and help hide the tension lurking around them, and this was good, the right sort of interruption to his thoughts, giving him the chance to laugh, and kiss, and remind Thindo that he was Commander Triwathon now, and why be surprised if he gave orders…?

'Oh, but Little-elkling, it didn't sound like orders, it sounded like suggestions, and very clever suggestions, too, the way you put it… and the way you said things, all added to the mood, and I really wish I didn't have to leave in the morning… What would happen if I refused to go, do you think…?'

'Nothing nice, I am afraid!' Triwathon said it with a smile in his voice. 'We already have one elf who refused his seat in a wagon, and he is now in the cells…'

'You're joking!'

'Not in the slightest. He had been very rude to our lovely Healer Maereth, though.' He gave an overstated sigh. 'But you see, Thindo-nin, I am not the duty captain for the convoys, you will be under Narunir's watchful eye… if you do not present yourself in a timely fashion, he will come looking for you…'

'And what if you open the door to him, wearing just your skin and your smile?' Thindo said, laughing through the thought.

'Ai, Narunir has his future ahead of him; he would likely arrest me as well, as complicit…'

The image of Narunir trying to arrest him made Triwathon laugh, and Thindorion joined in, but the mirth faded swiftly.

'I should have come sooner, Elkling.'

'No. Sooner would have been too soon for me to draw close to you. While my friend the Balrog-slayer was alive, and in Middle Earth, I do not think anyone could have moved me. Several tried, Thindo, don't think I haven't been sought… but now was a good time to come.'

'Elkling, one thing, though… I cannot help it, I am not easy, and I was wondering…'

Triwathon laughed, but there was something in Thindo's tone that echoed his own underlying mood.

'What? What, then, are you wondering?'

'You said yesterday, there was someone who thought he was your fëa-mate… thought, or thinks? Should… should we be doing this…?'

Was that it? Was this why Thindo had been talking, and talking, and talking…? In any case…

'It's a bit late for that now, isn't it?' Triwathon sighed. 'We have already done it. And lovely too, if I may say, Thindo…'

'No, but… I would not like to find I have hurt another's fëa, even by accident…'

'I do not think you should worry; It is true, there is an elf who thinks he is my fëa-mate, but it does not automatically follow that I must be his, does it? Or I would return the feeling, would I not?'

Thindorion did not answer directly. Instead, he looked across into his Triwathon's eyes with every appearance of losing himself there.

'I think I am greedy, I want more of you, Triwathon, even though we are not fëa-mates… I don't suppose… I know it is a lot to ask, but… would you sail with me?' And as Triwathon drew breath to reply, Thindo went on, 'If you think about it, we are nice together, and…'

'I couldn't possibly leave P…' Triwathon broke off before he finished saying the name 'Parvon', turned it into something else almost smoothly. '…Palace duties, the New Palace, my duties require me to oversee the security of the region while the villages are dismantled and the people resettled, and the New Palace itself, it must still be a guard post for the area, just because we have seen off one nest of dragons does not mean all the dangers are gone, and…'

'Peace, my Little-elkling!' Thindo propped himself up on one elbow, looking down into Triwathon's face and startled to see what may have been tears at the edges of his eyes. 'Of course, if your duties will not permit it, I understand. There is no need to get so upset…'

'I am not upset!' Triwathon pushed himself up in the bed, gasping out the words. 'I am… you surprised me, that is all, I… and it is very flattering of you to want me, Thindo!'

Thindorion laughed and reached up to cup his hand around Triwathon's face.

'Oh, Elkling, how could anyone not want you? As lovely as you are, as surprising and loving and still so much fun to be with!'

'If you would be content to wait, I will be free of my duty in two or three years or so, I can resign my place then and we could sail together, if it still pleased us. Or I could follow you later, perhaps, across the seas…'

Thindorion shook his head.

'It would not happen, I think. I need to sail now, it is time for me… I could wait for you in Valinor of course, but what if you did not come? and if I am there and meet my forever-love, what should I do? I am sorry, but just because you can turn your face away from your fëa-mate does not mean I can, or could, and that is how it must be. No, I must go now, as soon as I can get on a ship, and you must choose now, Elkling, if you will stay or if you will come with me. But I can see you have worked hard to get where you are, to achieve all you have, and it is unfair of me to expect you to throw it up just for a pleasant companion. Now, kiss me again, and we will speak no more of it.'

'Well… since you ask so sweetly…'

But even as their mouths met, Triwathon felt only relief that his friend seemed to understand, for he couldn't possibly sail, not even for Thindo, he was needed here, he had to be here, and it would take more than an old friend, however sweetly affectionate, to draw him away, and Thindorion's fëa-mate might be someone in Valinor and…

What had Thindo meant, 'turn your face away from your fëa-mate…'? How was that even possible, and why would anyone want to?

'What d…?' He broke off. Now would not be a good time to ask; the night was aging and as far as Triwathon knew, Thindo hadn't begun his preparations for the return trip yet.

'Mmm?' Thindo mumbled, his mouth being busy on Triwathon's belly in a way that made him almost forget his unspoken question.

'…would you like this time? Anything in particular…?'

'Oh, I think I will let you surprise me!' Thindorion lifted his head away from the soft skin under his lips and grinned up the length of his body towards him, hands exploring below Triwathon's hips. 'I seem to remember talk of games with wine, but our friend the poacher said it sounded wasteful…'

'Beer,' Triwathon shook his head. 'Beer is better, it fizzles in a very interesting way; have you any left?'

Triwathon stirred from the lightest of dozes and jumped, startled to find himself in a bed not his own, and with another elf asleep with his head on his chest. A sense of panic flared through him, of having done something terribly wrong…

But why? Thindo had loved every moment of everything…

He'd been dreaming, that was why he'd woken in such a state, dreams that were too close to memory… the… the messenger, his hands around Triwathon's neck, the look of outraged fury on Parvon's face as he pulled the attacker off and hit him… and then, Parvon's braiding, so gentle his fingers in Triwathon's hair in spite of the power of his fists… the cold as Triw had sat as close as he could to where his Balrog-slayer had lain in state, growing numb and chilled and uncaring as his mind was haunted by the ghost of the messenger and the only thing that stopped him from giving up was Parvon's voice, telling him, don't you dare fade, and all the loss and dread and pain came surging back…

He gasped at the hurt of it and sat up, trying to find a way to distract himself, dislodging the elf sleeping across him as he moved.

'It's time to wake, Thindo,' he said softly, thrusting the panic and pain away. 'Day is breaking! You must hasten!'

Thindo whimpered and twitched and closed, then opened his sleepy eyes.

'Mphf?' he said, blinking.

'I said, time to get up. Washing cascade, that is. Come, are you even packed?'

The question made Thindorion focus. He shifted onto his back and sat up slowly, sighing.

'Little-elkling, I didn't even unpack; I just left it all in my saddle-bags and took things out as I needed them...'

'Well, you need to get the beer out of your hair. Sticky stuff.'

'And so do you, I think…'

Thindorion lifted one of Triwathon's stickier tresses and let it fall; the strands had been welded together by old beer. Gently, Triwathon eased out of the bed, leaning across to kiss Thindorion's forehead.

'I can wait for my wash,' he said as he reached for clothing. 'But you're in need of haste; muster for the convoy is less than two hours away…'

'That soon? But I wanted…' He broke off. 'I wanted to have more time with you, one way or another…'

'Well, while you get ready, I'll head back to the garrison and check all is well and then join you for breakfast in the main hall, if you like.'

Thindo shook his head.

'In front of all and sundry, your friends and acquaintances? No, let's eat here, that way at least I might get another hug as you go… And you'll be at the wagon, to see me off?'

It was said with a rising lilt of tone, but Triwathon shook his head.

'I am sorry, I… I must… I never go to the wagons, it looks like I don't trust my captains if I…' He heard his own voice begin to rise, saw Thindo's eyes clench, his smile freeze at the corners, and he felt ashamed of himself; was that what sort of an elf he might become, now his Balrog-slayer was dead, a love-them-and-leave-them romancer, worse than the captain who had so disappointed and abandoned him…? '…but it does not matter, no, I can do that for you, I am the Garrison Commander, who will reprimand me if I am not where I am expected to be for once?' He opened his arms; Thindorion, still naked, sighed and walked into the hug. 'Thank you, Thindo. It's been lovel... So, I will get out of these silly clothes – it is habit with me, you know, from early musters, to dress as soon as I wake – and we will share your washing cascade. If you wish, I can first call the corridor servants bespeak food for us – I am the one dressed, after all.'

'Really, Triwathon? For a moment there, I thought you were abandoning me…'

'Ha, which one of us is taking ship?' Triwathon swallowed, shook his head at the panic sense of wrong that still gibbered at his fëa; to abandon Thindo would also be wrong, would compound his guilt… 'Thindorion… I am grateful, you know, for this night; I was stuck, somehow, all I could see was the glory of Gondolin's hero. But now, I have moved beyond him, I can see the warmth of a true, good friendship, and whatever else happens, when you are far away in Valinor, I will hold you in my heart here, a living memory of a living ellon, not a wisp of dead hope, and although we will never meet again, we will always be friends in our hearts…'

'Never is a long time, Triwathon-elkling…'

'That is true, and things may yet change. But… I do not see myself sailing, and you do not see yourself staying. Now, I will request breakfast and then help you wash the beer away, yes?'

Once they were both free of the stains of the night's beer spillage, and had eaten quietly together in Thindorion's rooms, Triwathon pushed away his chair.

'Thindo, it has been lovely… but I really must go back to the garrison now; I have to authorise the dispatches for the Old Palace, that I cannot delegate.'

'Thank you, Little-elkling. I'll say now, of all the beauty and wonders in Middle-Earth, it is you I shall miss the most.'

'Flatterer! Well, if I do not get chance to say later, I hope your journey is a good one and that you find all you need in Valinor.'

At the door, he opened his arms and Thindorion hugged him.

'Be well, Little-elkling! I will give Red your regards, but I won't tell him about last night. That's a special memory just for me to carry in my heart.'

'And you. I will do my best to be there to wave your wagon away.'

In his office, he reached for the stack of messages to be sent to the New Palace; there was scant time to sign and seal them before they must go to the runner to take to Faerveren for sealing and…

His letter to Parvon, in the locked drawer of his desk, still unfinished…

Scanning the messages to make sure there was nothing amiss with them, he signed and folded them, and set them with the already-sealed private missives from the garrison personnel, but didn't tie up the outer covering yet. He took out his partially-written letter and read it through; ah, he couldn't send that! It began so cheerfully, in such an easy, joking frame of mind about Thindo and now…

Now Triwathon was beginning to wonder if he'd made a terrible mistake…

Not for Thindorion; his friend seemed really, and deeply glad Triw had spent the night with him, but, oh, Parvon…

Parvon, who had been his rock, his unexpected rescuer, his dearest friend. Parvon, who had known each and every time when Triwathon had needed his help.

Parvon, who had never thought Lumormen's lover had been Triwathon, who had reassigned those servants who had been gossiping the tale around. Who had been so sure, as if he had known…

He couldn't send Parvon a half-written letter that didn't touch on the sense of… of guilt Triwathon now felt. But nor could he admit to what he'd done…

Ripping up the letter, he reached for fresh writing matter and started again.

"Dear Parvon,

"This is letter is far too short; but Thindorion, whom you sent with the convoy, is my long-ago friend, and there was much to talk over; I

Dear Parvon,

I think I have made a terrible mistake; Thindorion is leaving forever and I was lonely, and…

Parvon, I am so sorry, I hope you have not discovered what I…

Parvon, I know you can tell how things are, please do not think less of me…

Dear Parvon, I am still as foolish as ever I was and

…Parvon, I am sorry, I…

"Dear Parvon, I…"

'Commander? Are you done with the dispatches, sir?'

A tap at the door, the formally polite voice of the duty runner.

Already?

'Oh… yes, I have them here, let me just seal this up…' He stacked the private messages neatly, put the seal to the garrison dispatches and slid all into a leather satchel, and handed it across. 'There. Thank you.'

The door closed behind the duty runner, Triwathon surveyed the wreck and ruin of his desk. It was no good; there would be no letter for Parvon this time.